


Neon and Champagne

by LadyLisa



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Clubbing - 1920s Style, Dancing, Historical Hetalia, M/M, Weimar Germany
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-19 01:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29618391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLisa/pseuds/LadyLisa
Summary: Feliciano Vargas meets Ludwig Beildschmidt on a train to Berlin, during which Ludwig agrees to show Feliciano around a few dancing spots.Historical Hetalia Week Day 5: 1800 – 1945
Relationships: Germany/North Italy (Hetalia)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17
Collections: Historical Hetalia Week (February 2021)





	Neon and Champagne

**Author's Note:**

> *The Weimar Republic (1918 - 1933) was Germany's first democracy. It was liberal-progressive and there were a number of gay rights movements at the time, with Berlin being a known LBGT capital at the time. Hyperinflation, which peaked in 1923, led to a lot of reevalution of morals in German society (postwar pandemonium!! :))  
> **In 1922, 1 mark = 30 lira

Feliciano looked up from his sketchbook when the compartment door opened. The man in the doorway nodded in acknowledgement before sitting and staring out the window, his hand on his chin. A worn leather briefcase rested on his thighs, a frayed paper tag with _Ludwig Beilschmidt_ written in neat print above a faded address handing from the handle. 

Feliciano resumed drawing until the train lurched out of Leipzig Hauptbahnhof. Swaying with the train’s motion, Feliciano tossed his sketchbook on the neighboring seat beside a stack of annotated monographs about Roman art. He pulled his cigarettes from his pocket. Ludwig turned at the snap of Feliciano’s lighter. 

“Do you care if I smoke?” Feliciano’s voice was muffled by the cigarette between his teeth. 

“Yes,” Ludwig said. Sighing, Feliciano shoved the cigarette back in the carton. “Are you Italian? Your accent,” he added. 

“Yes,” Feliciano said. “My German isn’t great, but it’s pretty good. I mean, I can talk, but I probably couldn’t understand poetry or anything like that.” 

“Where did you learn?” 

“I taught myself. I’ve been picking up different languages since the war ended, I don’t know, I guess I needed a hobby.” 

Ludwig faced the window. “Yes, I suppose we all did.” Feliciano flipped his lighter between his fingers. 

“You fought, or…?” Ludwig nodded. A sense of camaraderie settled over Feliciano’s shoulders, even if Ludwig would have been in the enemy trench across no-man’s-land during the war. Across a swathe of mud muddled with so much barbed wire Feliciano couldn’t even see his enemy. Maybe Ludwig _had_ been there. Maybe Feliciano had shot at him. 

“I’m Feliciano Vargas, by the way.” He sat forward and extended a hand. Ludwig glanced at his outstretched hand for several seconds before shaking it.

“Ludwig Beilschmidt.” He sat back. “Is this just a visit for leisure, or work?” 

“Leisure. I need a break from all the war talk and the politics back home, it gets exhausting. I want to laugh! Go dancing, get drunk on expensive champagne, kiss someone. Just live again, you know? Do you live here?”

“I do. You might like Berlin. We’re bitterer than ever, but God, the economy’s such a disaster, it’s easy to enjoy yourself.” Feliciano inclined his head. “Well, nothing it feels like nothing really matters these days. Class, status, future plans… Nothing means a thing. _Money_ hardly means a thing. We’re all stuck in the gutter, may as well find some way to enjoy it. It’s total chaos of morals. Lots of dancing, indulgence, eroticism.” 

“Dancing, indulgence, and eroticism are some of my favorite things. I’m a Roman Epicurean at heart.” Feliciano brought a hand to his chest with a teasing smile. “Where’s a good place to dance? The streets? I love dancing in the streets, but, you know, you usually can’t.” 

Ludwig raised his eyebrows. “When has there ever been an occasion?”

“The day the war ended,” Feliciano said. “I don’t think I’d ever been so happy. I was on leave when it happened, I heard them call it on the radio. Everyone was coming out of their houses. They played music in the piazzas, the bars gave us free wines, and everyone you passed on the sidewalk would say something sweet to you.” 

Feliciano flipped the lighter through his fingers again. “I’d forgotten I could be that happy,” he said. “It was like I couldn’t stop smiling, and I wanted to dance and laugh and yell and cry at the same time.”

“Ah yes, I remember that day. Not quite as much national joy here, but personally I was ecstatic.” Ludwig crossed his arms. “The government shouldn’t have rushed into war like they did.” 

“Oh, thank God you’re anti-war.” 

“Extremely. I…” Ludwig studied his worn shoes, polished but scuffed and scratched. “I went to Rosa Luxemburg’s protest, when I was on leave. Not that it did a thing.” 

Feliciano crossed his arms as well. “Just because it didn’t singlehandedly end the war doesn’t mean it didn’t do a thing. I mean, you don’t know who was inspired by those protests to do something, even if in the future. I hope so, anyway, because war is awful and I never want to fight ever again.” 

“Neither do I.” Ludwig gripped his shaking hands over his briefcase. “But, in terms of dancing, they’re plenty of clubs in Berlin. You can likely afford expensive champagnes, too, with all your lire.” 

Ludwig’s words brought wistfulness to Feliciano’s anticipation of Berlin. He was still travel-weary after the trip from Trento to Leipzig the night before, but a vivacious nightlife tempted him regardless. 

“Exciting,” Feliciano said. “And what about you? Are your morals ruined, I mean?” 

“The war compromised most of my ethics, society in freefall has killed most of my inhibitions about propriety. I shudder to admit this, but all this has put me under the impression it might be best to just… ‘live it up’ as they say.” 

“Seconded,” Feliciano said, draping an arm over the seat back. “Society in freefall definitely puts me in the mood to sin, personally.” Ludwig made a derisive sound. “I meant it.” He sat up. “Do you want to come with me?” Ludwig considered a long moment before offering a hesitant agreement.

“Ooo, I’m so excited! I’ll just have to drop my things at my hotel, and put on my dancing shoes.” Ludwig raised his eyebrows. “What was that for? You think I don’t have dancing shoes? What kind of a person _doesn’t_?” 

“Are you an artist, or is it just a hobby?” Ludwig asked, nodding at Feliciano’s sketchbook. 

“Both,” Feliciano said. “I’ve been going around different cities, looking at street art. I’m going to make a project out of it somehow, I just haven’t decided yet.” Feliciano set his bag atop his lap, hugging it close to himself. Ludwig asked him what he was smiling at, and Feliciano just shrugged. 

Ludwig returned his attention to the window, to the reflection of his drawn expressions and tired eyes behind his careworn glasses. Feliciano liked his glasses. He liked how the train lamps stained Ludwig’s blond hair rosy gold, how his pressed shirt fit his shoulders, his shy curiosity when their eyes met. 

Feliciano braced his elbow on his knee and leaned forward. “You must frequent clubs often, if you know where the good ones are.” 

“On occasion,” Ludwig said. Feliciano raised his eyebrows. “I admit it, it’s a guilty pleasure. I do feel slightly less guilty given the state of things, but even so.” 

“I don’t believe in feeling guilty about pleasure. Life’s made to be lived.” Feliciano paused. “Actually… After the war, and now with Mussolini, I don’t buy into that as much anymore. ‘Life’s made to be lived,’ I mean. I think it’s more like: life is a shitshow, so you may as well have fun interludes between the increasingly shitty acts.” 

“Yes, that’s more how I think.” 

Feliciano chuckled. “Glad we’re in agreement.” They spoke until the train halted at Berlin’s central station. After Ludwig agreed to meet Feliciano at a café nearby his hotel, they parted on the platform and lost each other in the jostling crowd. Feliciano’s face was warm with a blush that refused to fade. 

Feliciano hummed to himself as he walked to his hotel. Excitement gathered along the gold horizon, charging his thoughts and putting a lofty spring in his step. Feliciano paused to admire the way the sunset stained the city orange, how warm the sunlight felt on his face. He filled his lungs with summer and quickened his pace.

When he arrived at the café, Ludwig was stood beside the outdoor tables. He was wearing cologne, had changed his shoes and redone his hair. Feliciano hoped Ludwig had done all that for him. 

“Ludwig!” Feliciano hurried over to him. “You look nice.” Ludwig thanked him, sinking his hands into his pockets. “Are there any wine shops around here? I’ve got about a thousand marks—” 

“That’s not going to be enough. We should stop by the bank.” 

“Ooh, the bank. Very fun.” 

“Entirely more fun than dancing,” Ludwig said. Feliciano laughed, following Ludwig down the block towards the nearest bank. They picked up idle strands of conversation from the train, walking close on the crowded sidewalks; Ludwig accidentally nudged Feliciano’s arm, and Feliciano nudged it back. 

“I’ve always wanted to live in a city,” Feliciano said as he pushed open the door to the bank. “So many interesting people.” He greeted the teller and requested several thousand marks, but Ludwig stopped him. 

“You’ll need about twenty times.” 

Feliciano blinked. “Is this your sense of humor?” 

“No. In fact, I’ve often been informed I don’t have one. Now, you should get about a million.”

“Huh. You guys are screwed,” Feliciano said. He clapped his hands to his mouth. “I’m sorry! That was so rude!” 

“It’s the truth, in any event. Now get your ten kilos of notes and enjoy watching Germany getting screwed as an outsider.” 

“Well… I am a bit of a voyeur,” Feliciano said. Feliciano had to stuff fistfulls of bills into the pockets of his slacks and suit jacket while Ludwig slipped the rest in his trouser pockets. Both their pockets were overflowing when they started back down the street. 

“I doubt anyone would believe me if I said I had nearly one million marks,” Feliciano said. “By the way, I’m sure you have a sense of humor. I’m going to find it tonight.”

Ludwig quirked an eyebrow. “Are you?”

Feliciano pivoted and stopped up short in front of Ludwig, who started. “I am. I’ve never broken a promise in my life.” 

Ludwig considered him. “I don’t believe that.” 

“Believe what you want, that doesn’t make it less true,” Feliciano said, starting back down the street.

The wine store interior was cooler and dimmer than outdoors, the windows crowded with papers announcing marked-up prices. Or perhaps they were marked-down—Feliciano had no way of discerning the pile of zeros crammed onto the paper. Feliciano wandered between the aisles, passing his fingers along a few dark bottles and skimming the labels. 

He jumped when Ludwig tapped his shoulder. They were cramped close between the wine shelves, close enough the bergamot and vetiver in Ludwig’s cologne were discernible. Ludwig handed him a bottle of champagne. 

“Here, see if this appeals to you,” he said. Feliciano turned it over, his eyes widening at this price.

“This has to be some horrible horrible joke.” 

“It’s not.” 

Feliciano bought with the bottle with two pocketfuls of bills. “Where should we drink it? Oh! We should go to that park by the café.” Ludwig nodded, holding the door open for Feliciano. Dusk had deepened to the cusp of night. 

The park grass was white and gold from the café’s illuminated windows, through which a few people sipped coffee and chatted. Ludwig opened the champagne with his house key. The pop made both of them flinch. Feliciano cast his eyes down, even as the champagne ran over his hand. Ludwig was looking down too. Memories of the war were like oil, sinking into his skin, matting his hair. Feliciano clutched the bottle harder to keep it from slipping. 

“We don’t have glasses,” Ludwig said. 

“Let’s just drink it from the bottle.” 

“That’s unsanitary.” 

“You’re going to pass up the most expensive champagne in all of Berlin?” Feliciano teased. He shook his head and took a long draft of champagne. Ludwig crossed his arms. Feliciano shrugged and took another drink. “No?” Ludwig groaned. 

“Fine.” He took a neat sip. They wandered around the park while they drank the champagne, talking until they broke into laughter and the bottle emptied. Feliciano tossed it into the dumpster behind the café, flinching when it shattered. He collapsed against the back wall of the café and lit himself a cigarette, peering sideways at Ludwig. 

“You _are_ funny.” Feliciano poked Ludwig on the arm. “So funny.” 

“And you’re a compulsive liar, I see,” Ludwig said. 

Feliciano laughed and took another drag from his cigarette. He tipped his head back against the brick wall with a sigh. The flight, the train, the aftertaste of champagne. It brought soft exhaustion to Feliciano’s mind, and he closed his eyes. 

“Quick, I’m getting tired. Let’s go dancing.” 

“Alright. I’ll take you to one of the bars where I usually go. Although, you should know, it’s… well, there’s quite a bit of… homosexual activity there.” 

“Oh, wonderful!” Feliciano said. “Lead the way!” Ludwig brought him back along the city’s avenues, which breathed with neon light and laughter. It electrified Feliciano’s pulse. The moment they stepped inside the bar, Feliciano whisked himself off to the dance floor and flung himself into the crowd. He gave a shout of laughter that was drowned in jazz and a buzz of voices. 

Feliciano had danced his way onto the centre of the dancefloor when he stepped on the skirts of a trio of men in drag. One of them caught him. 

Feliciano blushed, unable to staunch a giggle. “Why hello,” Feliciano said. Feliciano brushed his lips to the man’s knuckles, laughing again as he spun Feliciano upright. Feliciano paused, catching sight of Ludwig watching him from the fringes of the crowd. 

“Uh-oh,” Feliciano said. 

“What is it?” he asked, a smile on his silken, red lips. 

“I think I’m making someone jealous.” Feliciano gestured towards Ludwig. “At least I think. I don’t even know if he likes me all that much.” Ludwig had looked away. The man nudged Feliciano. 

“Go on, ask him to dance.” 

Feliciano grinned. “I think I will. Enjoy your evening, thanks for catching me.” Feliciano kissed his hand again and hurried back through the crowd to Ludwig. “Sorry. I tripped, he caught me, no need to be jealous,” he panted. Ludwig spluttered and launched into a list of reasons why he was not jealous, but Feliciano interrupted him. 

“Come dance with me,” he said. He offered Ludwig his hand. Ludwig took it and allowed himself to be led further onto the floor. Ludwig’s stiff manner had driven Feliciano to skepticism about his ability to dance, but Ludwig breathed vivacity and exhilaration when he moved. Feliciano took Ludwig’s hands to dance with him, carefully morphing his complex steps into a simple one-step so he could speak.

“Oh, you _can_ dance!” Feliciano said. 

“Your skepticism was warranted,” Ludwig said. “I never used to, but…” 

“Downfall of society,” Feliciano supplied. “I mean, I know this is awful, but God is it fun!” Feliciano let go of Ludwig and danced his way through the crowd, but never drifted too far. He danced with strangers, was passed around between one-steps and foxtrots and incoherent flailing until someone tossed him right back into Ludwig’s arms.

The flush in Ludwig’s face deepened as the next song picked up. Feliciano started to foxtrot with him, captivated by the perpetual motion and Ludwig’s careful touch, the soft adoration in his expression. 

It drove Feliciano crazy, and he hung off Ludwig’s affection with reckless abandon. 

Every few songs Feliciano was forced to gulp down water at the bar. Ludwig always joined him. 

Feliciano leaned against the bar, sipping his water and reveling its coolness. “Your hair is falling down,” he said. 

“I know.” Ludwig attempted to flatten it. Feliciano smiled against the rim of his glass. 

“I like it.” 

“Do you?” Ludwig stopped pushing his hair back. Feliciano surveyed the dance floor, frowning. “Why is everyone going?” he demanded, gesturing with his water glass. “It’s hardly past midnight.”

“They’re going up the street. Free beer after midnight on Fridays,” Ludwig said. “The beer is awful and nobody should drink it, but people will get drunk on anything nowadays. Other than you, I suppose, and your champagne.” Feliciano smirked. 

“That’s only because I had a little extra cash here, usually bargain red is my weapon of choice.” Feliciano shook his head. “It’s getting too quiet, let’s go down the street. If you want, I mean. I swear I won’t drink the beer.” Ludwig agreed, following Feliciano through the crowd. 

The summer night outside doused the noise and overwhelming heat inside the bar, night wind stinging their flushed faces. Feliciano and Ludwig walked under streetlamps and illuminated windows, laughing loudly while the city went on around them. 

As soon as they got inside, Feliciano took Ludwig’s hand. The bar was so packed with people Feliciano couldn’t make out a single feature of the room but for the lights overhead. 

Tired as Feliciano was, being in the crowded room with all its noise and bustle was enough to reanimate the electricity in his blood and make him move. The wooden dancefloor was strewn with several trodden-on marks and champagne stains; Feliciano slipped. Ludwig caught him. Feliciano slunk his arms around Ludwig’s shoulders. 

Ludwig leaned nearer and paused. Hoping that pause had been a silent question about kissing him, Feliciano nodded. Ludwig held Feliciano’s tighter. His pulse pounded in his flushed cheeks. Or perhaps it were the beat of the music, or the collective pulse of every person there, or the beat everyone made as they danced. It didn’t matter. The static in Feliciano’s veins sent currents through his nerves so that even in the heat he shivered.

Feliciano grabbed Ludwig’s shoulders when Ludwig kissed him. Feliciano opened his mouth. The champagne sweetness was left on Ludwig’s lips, on his tongue. Feliciano wanted to taste it. He wanted everything to be too much. His fingertips tingled. 

Ludwig slowly let him go, his pupils dilated in the dark, lips parted in surprise. He brought Feliciano upright. 

“I’ve got to make this my signature move, falling into handsome men’s arms!” Feliciano said over the music. His exhaustion ebbed; with people around him and neon and electricity in his bloodstream, Feliciano could have outlasted his fatigue. But after another hour of dancing, Ludwig resigned himself from the floor. Feliciano squeezed through the crowd after him. 

“Are you tired?” Feliciano asked Ludwig, who was folding the napkin form his water. 

“A bit.” Ludwig’s voice rasped. “I know we already had all that champagne, but… would you maybe want to get another drink with me? I know a quieter place nearby here.” 

“Yes! Yes, I’d love to!” He leaned down towards Ludwig. “Can I kiss you again?” 

“Could we go on the patio? I don’t like the kiss in public. The dance floor doesn’t count, no one is paying attention out there.” 

Feliciano nodded. Ludwig led him through the crowd, behind the jazz band and through the patio doors. The soft night eased Feliciano’s pounding heart, and his exhaustion crept in like the night-tide. He walked to the railing to admire the dark city with Ludwig beside him, muffled jazz suffused in the air around them. 

“Here?” Feliciano asked with a little smile. Ludwig nodded, and Feliciano closed his eyes and kissed Ludwig softly. Ludwig received it like a gift. This was a kiss to be savored and enjoyed, not to overwhelm. Why hadn’t Feliciano kissed him like this first? 

“Thanks for coming with me,” Feliciano said. “Have you had an okay night?” 

“Of course I have, Feliciano. It’s been a spectacular night,” Ludwig said. Feliciano smiled, kissing his cheek. 

Ludwig was still blushing when they arrived at a narrow nearby bar from which low, soft music dripped. Ludwig opened the door, and he and Feliciano settled at the bar. Feliciano checked his reflection behind the bar, running his fingers through his hair and touching his flushed cheeks.

They listened to the music over expensive beer that Feliciano splurged on with two handfuls of marks from his suit pocket. Their conversation idled, drifted, dipped from one thing to another with no hurry. Feliciano leaned close to him on the bar, unable to help from smiling when Ludwig spoke to him. Ludwig paused to take a sip of his beer. 

“I like you,” Feliciano said, assisted by the champagne and beer. “I really do.” Ludwig blinked before he smiled hesitantly. 

“Oh, well… that’s… thank you.” He shut his eyes. “No, not _thank you_ , I mean, I do as well.” Ludwig reddened to his ears. “That wasn’t terribly debonair.” 

Feliciano laughed. “Don’t worry, Ludwig.” He sighed, glancing at the clock. “Will you walk me back to my hotel?” 

“Of course.” Feliciano held onto Ludwig’s arm as they walked. It was dark out front of the hotel, but a few lights were on in the upper windows and atrium. Feliciano paused in the doorway. 

“Can I see you again?” he asked. “I’ll be sleeping in tomorrow, but…” 

“Maybe a late lunch?” Ludwig suggested. “I can come by around fourteen, if you’d like.” Feliciano’s fatigue claimed his words, so he simply smiled and nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Feliciano. Thank you for having me along tonight,” he said. 

Feliciano just nodded, closing his eyes as and kissing Ludwig goodnight.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man I loved writing this!! I was totally indulging my "Ludwig is a good dancer" headcanon because why wouldn't I 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading <3


End file.
